


Angel On My Shoulder

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Community: trope_bingo, Conversation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jack's daemon is eerily familiar. Also there are handcuffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel On My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: conversation format, crack, mocking of actors  
> AN: Written for Trope Bingo square: au: daemons

"No, really." 

"No."

"I swear it's true."

"I don't believe you. Jack, I can make myself believe most of your stories. I even believe the one about the woman with the extendable tentacles."

"Hey, that happened. That was one hell of a weekend. Did I tell you about ..."

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Because there were a hell of a lot of ..."

"YES. You told me. With diagrams when I wasn't sure I believed you then. And now I do. All right? But I refuse to believe you spent a month living in another dimension ... "

"Universe. It was another universe."

"UNIVERSE, where every person had their own shoulder dragon."

"They weren't all dragons."

"So you've said."

"Everyone had their own unique daemon. Something specific to them, to their personality. Lot of dragons, enormous number of cats."

"But not you."

"Well, no. My daemon was ... "

" ... a drunken gay Scotsman who liked to get into the bathtub and serenade his invisible dog."

"Exactly."

"No."

"Got me into a lot of trouble, too. Most daemons had a sense of humor. Think of it like that little voice that you keep quiet so you don't say out loud what you're thinking about other people. Now add in what I'm usually thinking about."

"I'd be more than happy to tell you what I'm thinking about you right now."

"Really?"

"Not that."

"You're missing out. As I was saying, though, imagine having that little voice, except it follows you around and says what you wish you could say but shouldn't. Like a distilled version of your own personality with no filter."

"You _are_ the distilled version of your own personality with no filter. May I remind you that you insulted three Cabinet members on that conference call yesterday, and I had to call them back and soothe their tempers for over an hour?"

"And you do it so well."

"Don't think flattery will affect how cross I am."

"You're sexy when you're cross."

"Not helping."

"Now, see, my daemon ... "

"Not that again."

" ... would have taken that opportunity to hop over and kiss you on the cheek."

"Which would be bloody difficult as we're both handcuffed to the wall. Could your drunken gay Scotsman have found us the key?"

"Maybe."

"But you can't summon him in this dimension. Sorry, universe."

"No."

"So why did you bring him up in the first place?"

"You mean my clever plan?"

"To distract me from the fact that we're trapped here and when our captors with the three heads get back, they're going to kill us? Well, me. They'll likely get bored with you after enough tries."

"That plan, yeah."

"Is it working?"

"Apparently not. But since I'm on this side, and you're over there, and my legs won't reach, I'm not up for distracting you in a more fun fashion. Or kissing you on the cheek myself to pretend we're going to be fine."

"So instead you're pretending you can send a drunken gay Scotsman over to do it for you?"

"Call it a visit from my inner self."

"You're not gay or Scottish, and you don't drink."

"All true."

"This wasn't how I pictured our final conversation to go."

"You've been planning our final conversation?"

"Not exactly."

"Come on, tell me about it. Are we naked?"

"I can't believe you're thinking about sex now."

"Ianto, I'm handcuffed to a wall. We did this two nights ago."

"I don't suppose you have the handcuff key handy?"

"No."

"So, exactly like two nights ago, then."

"Hey, I got you free eventually."

"Believe me, I am resting here in the firm belief that once you stop obsessing on your imaginary friend from another universe, you'll figure out something."

"And if I don't?"

"Then, Captain, it's been a pleasure to know you, in every sense."

"Likewise. Look, we'll find a way out."

"I hear something. Listen."

"That's not ... "

"They're coming."

"I'll try to talk them out of it. I'll do something. Just stay by the wall, look inconspicuous. Whatever you can. I'm not letting you die here. All right?"

"Jack, stop."

"And when we get out of here, you can tell me how you think our last conversation is going to go. Because this isn't it."

"I thought I'd be older. And that you'd be holding my hand."

"You'll be ninety years old. I'll tell bad jokes and we'll scandalise the grandchildren. I'll hold your hand the whole time. I promise."

"They're here."

_"Jack! Where are you!"_

"Gwen! We're in here!"

_"We got the aliens."_

"Oh, thank God."

"Good work."

_"Thank Tosh. Now, get back from the door. We're going to have to blow it."_

"Hold on, Gwen. Ianto, see if you can move over there. If I pull like this, I might be able to shield you from the blast."

"I can't move, and neither can you. Now might be a good time for that drunken gay Scotsman, though."

"Are you sure?"

"Unless you have another way out. Remember, you owe me terrible jokes and holding my hand when I'm ninety."

"And scandalising the grandkids, don't forget. Gwen, we're ready."

_"All right. Three...two...one...."_

***  
The End  
***


End file.
